Kabir had never believed in fate — only in choices. But today, as he stood outside the quiet restaurant he had chosen, he wondered if fate had a hand in this too. Or maybe it was desperation — a last, fragile attempt to peel back the layers of polite distance that lay between him and the woman he was about to marry.
He had spoken to Sia’s father the day before, carefully asking for permission for a private meeting. “Not to break tradition,” he’d said, “but to understand her heart. To see if there’s room for me in her world.” Sia’s father, with a sigh that spoke of generations of duty, had agreed.
And so here he was — waiting for Sia in the warm glow of flickering lamps, the clink of cutlery and murmurs of other diners fading into a hush as he rehearsed the words he wanted to say.
When she arrived, she was not draped in crimson or burdened by tradition. She wore a simple pastel kurta, her hair falling softly around her shoulders. But what struck Kabir most was not her attire — it was the set of her shoulders, the quiet strength in the way she met his gaze.
She didn’t smile as she sat down. Not a forced, polite smile or a practiced curve of lips. She looked at him with eyes that were calm and watchful, as if she was bracing for another round of negotiations. As if she was ready to protect what was left of her own heart.
Kabir took a breath, steadying himself. “Sia,” he said softly, “I didn’t bring you here to talk about dates or guest lists. I just wanted to… understand you. Away from all the noise.”
For a moment, she didn’t answer. She simply watched him, her fingers resting lightly on the table, her expression unreadable. And then she spoke — her voice low, but with an edge that was almost weary.
“You want to understand me?” she asked, her tone calm but distant. “What is there to understand, Kabir? I’m a daughter who’s doing what’s expected. A daughter who has no choice.”
Kabir leaned forward, his own voice quiet but firm. “That’s what I want to know, Sia. If you feel you have no choice… or if you’re simply afraid to speak of what you want.”
Her eyes flickered — just for an instant — and he saw it: a crack in the composure, a momentary flash of vulnerability.
She didn’t look away, though. She met his gaze squarely. “What I want doesn’t matter in the world we come from,” she said evenly. “I’ve been taught all my life to be the perfect daughter, to not bring shame or scandal to my family. So I do what’s asked of me. I don’t complain. I don’t fight.”
He felt a heaviness in his chest — a mixture of anger at the world that had taught her to be silent and an ache for the woman who sat there so calm, so controlled, even as the truth pressed against her ribs.
“I don’t want you to be silent with me,” he said quietly. “I want you to tell me if this marriage… if it’s something you can accept. Not for them. Not for tradition. But for yourself.”
Sia’s lips parted slightly, and he saw a flicker of something in her eyes — a glimmer of the fierce, stubborn spirit she tried so hard to bury.
“I don’t know if I can,” she said finally, her voice almost a whisper. “I don’t know if I can trust that this isn’t just another transaction. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Her words were like a blade, but he didn’t flinch. He reached across the table, his fingers stopping just short of hers. “I can’t promise you that I can fix everything. But I can promise that I see you — beyond the alliances and the expectations. I see you, Sia. And I want to fight for the parts of you that no one else has ever asked to see.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. And then she let out a quiet breath, her shoulders softening just a fraction.
“You’re asking me to believe in something that’s never been real for me,” she said, her tone still guarded but laced with a quiet plea. “You’re asking me to hope for something I’ve never dared to.”
He gave a small, earnest nod. “Yes,” he said. “Because I’d rather start this marriage with a truth between us — even if it’s a difficult one — than spend the rest of our lives wearing masks.”
She looked at him, her expression shifting like dawn breaking over a silent landscape. For the first time, she didn’t look like a bride-to-be in an arranged engagement. She looked like a woman weighing the measure of her own heart.
And in that moment, Kabir realized: this was the closest they had ever come to something real. To the possibility of a love that wasn’t built on family alliances or gilded lies. A love that began in a quiet restaurant, in the hesitant meeting of two souls who were both a little afraid — but willing to try.
Sia had always known how to wear silence like armor. From the time she was a little girl, she had learned that a daughter’s voice was meant to be soft, that her dreams should be tucked away like folded letters in a locked drawer.
When her father had told her about the dinner Kabir had requested, he had spoken gently — as if he knew that every word would be an intrusion into the delicate balance she had crafted.
“Beta,” he had said, his voice soft and weary, “Kabir wants to meet you… privately, before the engagement. Just to talk, he says.”
She had nodded, her eyes lowered, her heart a quiet thud beneath her ribs. She hadn’t said no. Because she never did.
And now, she sat across from Kabir in the small restaurant, the gentle flicker of candles casting long shadows on the tablecloth. She tried to steady her breathing, to calm the flutter of doubt that always stirred when someone asked her what she wanted.
He was kind, she saw that. There was a gentleness in the way he looked at her — not like she was a prize to be won, but like she was a person he wanted to understand. He spoke softly, choosing every word as if it mattered.
And yet…
Every time he spoke of hope — of truth — a part of her wanted to believe him. To think that maybe this marriage would not be the same as the ones she had grown up watching: quiet alliances stitched together with compromise and silence.
But then… she would remember the laughter. The way the elders in the family would laugh whenever she was asked what she wanted. The way the world had always laughed when a girl dared to speak her own mind.
Hope was dangerous.
So she sat there, her back straight, her fingers twisting the edge of the tablecloth, and she tried to listen.
She tried to believe him when he said he wanted to know her — not just the daughter who kept her family’s dignity intact, but the woman beneath.
She tried to believe him when he said he didn’t want her to wear a mask with him.
But belief had never been easy for her.
The stubborn Sia — the one who once dreamed of seeing the world beyond the narrow lanes of tradition — she was buried deep now. In her place was a daughter who had seen her mother’s quiet endurance, who had watched her father’s shoulders stoop under the weight of unspoken expectations.
That daughter knew her duty.
She knew that her family’s pride was more important than her own fears.
And so even when Kabir’s voice was gentle, even when his eyes were warm and searching, she kept her heart locked away.
Because what if he was just like everyone else?
What if the moment she let herself believe, it all turned to dust?
Still… as the night wore on, she found herself wanting to lean forward — just a little. To listen, to hope. To imagine a world where she was not just a daughter, but a woman who could choose her own destiny.
She didn’t know if she was brave enough to speak that truth. But for the first time in a long time, she wondered if maybe — just maybe — she wanted to try.
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How was the chapter cuties
Ik mujhe late ho gaya update karne mein sorry for that and yess i am merging my chapter now so now i will publish long chapters okay and yess english is not my first language so sorry if there is any mistake and Thank-you for you support and love
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